[The longer they stand here the more bits and peices fall into place. Flour and baking and traps and holidays, Peeta and losing him and that painting. Fighting and killing and hearing her cry out as he died- watching her when he returned. It is still muzzy but it is present. It fits. It does not seem near as incongruous as his experience this morning with Isaac and that is likely the kindest thing for the both of them. He cannot imagine walking in this forest without knowing Katniss was out hunting as well. Without remembering her face or her voice or her too small, too fragile smile.
If anyone else has need of him, if there is anyone else he should find- they can wait. Right now all he cares about is holding fast to the one thing that seems certain in this forest.]
Were anyone able to bind me here, Solano, it would be you.
[Natural enough to turn his head and press his lips to her hair, to smooth a gloved hand along it and just. Breathe. Anchor himself in that sentiment, in that he allows himself to express it- and it hasn't killed her.]
no subject
If anyone else has need of him, if there is anyone else he should find- they can wait. Right now all he cares about is holding fast to the one thing that seems certain in this forest.]
Were anyone able to bind me here, Solano, it would be you.
[Natural enough to turn his head and press his lips to her hair, to smooth a gloved hand along it and just. Breathe. Anchor himself in that sentiment, in that he allows himself to express it- and it hasn't killed her.]